Not Just Another Day on the Bike...

I went for a bike ride today.  I had decided to go out to Ajuterique and Lejamani, and then on a bit more toward La Paz.-- pretty much the same route as last week, except that I would ride a bit further toward La Paz before turning around and heading back.

The day started out just like last week.  No big deal.  But then, less than 5 miles into the ride I started getting a few wolf whistles and shouts from guys as they would pass in trucks.  I kept riding.  More whistles.  Some "Hey, baby"s.  There was also the usual "have a good day" and "adios", which, even though it means 'good-bye', is also used as a hello greeting in passing. It sure seemed that there were a lot more men out today, and that translated to a lot more "guys being guys" stuff.

I rode through Ajuterique and on to Lejamani.  At about the 10-mile point, I started heading out of town and on toward La Paz.  I had planned to go until I hit around 12 miles and then turn back.

Well, I got a bit more than a mile out of town and I noticed that a motorcycle was coming up behind me, slowly, and much too close to my side of the road.  (Yes, I ride with a mirror.)  I mentally braced myself for him to say something as he passed me, knowing that he would be close enough for me to reach out and clock him with my left arm.  I was totally unprepared for what actually happened:

The dude, the jerk, the slimeball reached out with his right hand while passing and slapped my rear!  Well, actually, he didn't slap it as much as he let his hand linger.  The #$%&* copped a feel! I was mad!  "¡Qué bárbaro!" I yelled out.  'How rude!'  He turned around, made a gesture with his left hand as he did one of those kisses like when the food is really good.  I shouted it out again, "¡Qué bárbaro!"  He just laughed and kept riding, speeding up his motorcycle.

I was seething mad!  I honestly can't remember the last time I've been that mad.  It's a good thing he didn't come around for another pass, because I probably would have blinded the guy.  I kept riding, trying to calm down.  I wasn't scared, didn't feel in danger or anything, just ticked off beyond belief.

A few minutes later, before I turned around to head back, I noticed another motorcycle coming up right behind me, also driving slowly, hugging the side of the road.  "That's it!" I thought.  "This is not happening twice today."  I reached down and pulled out a full water bottle with my left hand, wielding it at my side as an obvious weapon. I flexed my water bottle-laden arm as menacingly as I could, hoping that the dude realized I was not to be trifled with.  I was fully prepared to clock the guy right there, in the middle of nowhere.

But, as the guy passed, I saw he was wearing a nice white shirt and a tie.  He was carrying a laptop bag or briefcase.  He looked at me, but didn't say anything at all, probably realizing that even a "hello" might be mistaken for anything else and get him a bottle upside his head. After he passed me, he pulled in front of me, but didn't speed up.  I realized that he couldn't; his motorcycle was probably broken.

As soon as I was at 12 miles, which was only a minute or two later, I turned around and headed back toward Lejamani. I figured I'd much rather deal with wolf whistles and comments than have my butt slapped again.  Especially when no one was around.  Shortly after I turned around, I saw two more guys on motorcycles also dressed in shirts and ties, going in the same direction as the guy who had passed me.  Maybe they were going to the same place?

In Lejamani I stopped at the same pulpería as last week.  I had sufficiently calmed down and had even had some friendly greetings as I passed some people right outside of town.  I talked to the people in the pulpería and the woman who runs it made sure that one of the other ladies working there knew I was from Comayagua and rode my bike all the way.

The 8.5 miles from Lejamani back to the main highway go by quite fast since most of the way is a very, very slight downhill.  As I was cruising I started thinking: I just turned 50 this week, but somehow managed to get more whistles and "woo hoos" or whatevers, than I ever have on the bike here.  They're just seeing a female on a bike.  I think most of them would be totally amazed, and probably grossed out, to realize they just whistled at a 50-year-old.

Oh, and after talking to Trifi and telling him and Erica about what happened today, I now have a few new choice, non-cussing but still insulting, things to say if I ever need it.